


alone, but not lonely

by onlyacoffee



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 03:22:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyacoffee/pseuds/onlyacoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You don’t have to be alone," Courfeyrac had told him once, and Feuilly wanted to laugh, then - does laugh, when he thinks back on it.  Because sometimes he wonders if there is something wrong with him. He doesn’t imagine what a women’s touch on his skin would feel like, doesn’t ponder the texture of a man’s lips on his. He simply doesn’t, never has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	alone, but not lonely

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to a prompt for ace amis week, from notanearlyadopter: _after a hard week at work and one too many friendly ribs about his lack of a mistress, ace!Feuilly has something of a meltdown. His friends support him._

"You don’t have to be lonely," Courfeyrac had told him once, and Feuilly wanted to laugh, then - does laugh, when he thinks back on it . But he couldn’t, can’t, blame Courfeyrac - Courfeyrac, with concern so evident in his bright eyes, his hand a warm weight on Feuilly’s knee, piercing through his clothes and sinking through his bones. Suddenly aware of the physicality of the gesture, Feuilly quickly moved away.

"I’m not," he had smiled, and the hurt had quickly faded from Courfeyrac’s expression. "I promise," and on most days, it’s the truth, "I wouldn’t lie," except about this.

Because sometimes he does wonder if there is something wrong with him. He doesn’t imagine what a women’s touch on his skin would feel like, doesn’t ponder the texture of a man’s lips on his. He simply doesn’t, never has.

He is lonely at times, when he lies down on his mattress after the last of his candles has burned out, when he fears that he will never form that kind of bond with anyone; but he is also warmed by his friends’ presence embracing him, by their voices and ideas swelling and burning in the night.

He is the loneliest in the spring, when the workshop is the busiest, when he has orders upon orders of pretty fans to go through before he can leave; exhausted, his head heavy, his eyes and hands burning, his mind numb. He walks through the door of the café and greets his friends with a tired smile. He sits a little further off, quietly listening on, too exhausted to be an active participant tonight; he gets up to leave earlier than usual, and Prouvaire, sitting closest to him and probably a little inebriated, sighs dramatically and -

Prouvaire is the most tactile of his friends; Feuilly has always known that. He notices that Grantaire itches to be closer to them but dares not; Bahorel is all warm clasps on the shoulder, the ruffling of hair, but these touches never last more than a few seconds. Courfeyrac, tuned in to his friends’ feelings, now knows Feuilly prefers a smile and a nod to a hug. But Prouvaire, Prouvaire touches as much for himself as he does for others.

So when Prouvaire wraps his arms around Feuilly’s neck and plants a kiss on his cheek, whispering teasingly in his ear, “say goodnight to your lovely lady for us?" Feuilly knows he should have known better than to snap. Prouvaire had a bad day, he knows, but Feuilly did as well and he is tired and that’s all he can do not to throw Prouvaire away from him and scream in frustration.

His face is red and he knows everyone is staring, Prouvaire, especially, recoils as if slapped and Feuilly slumps back down on his seat, hiding his head in his arms. Courfeyrac is immediately at his side, and no one is touching him as he confesses, voice low but clear.

Feuilly isn’t sure if they all understand, although they do not question his feelings. He is still lonely, sometimes; but Prouvaire smiles at him, teary-eyed but unhurt, and Courfeyrac offers to walk with him to his apartment, and Feuilly can believe, from then on, that this doesn’t mean he has to be lonely.


End file.
